


Witch's Bargain

by inelegantly (Lir)



Series: SASO 2015 Fills [14]
Category: Love Live! School Idol Project, Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spirits, Bargaining, Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2015, F/F, Wordcount: 100-2.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/pseuds/inelegantly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>After being reminded at every turn that she has no power in the world of spirits and demons in which she's found herself, she has come to accept that she has no other recourse save to ask for help. Real help — not favors from lowly spirits in the bathhouse, not trickery and cleverness that only keep her out of danger for a few minutes more. If she doesn't put aside her pride, she doubts she'll ever see her grandmother again.</i>
</p>
<p>Eli comes to Toujou Nozomi, witch proprietress of a supernatural bathhouse, for assistance with an unfortunate situation she's found herself placed in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witch's Bargain

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the second bonus round of the 2015 [Sports Anime Shipping Olympics](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/), where the theme of the round is AUs. The prompt I am working from was, "SPIRITED AWAY AU."
> 
> I love Spirited Away a great deal, and had fun placing Eli in a similar situation to Chihiro's while also giving her story a very different spin.

-

Eli keeps her chin up, as she turns to face doors three times taller than she stands.

Her patience and determination have gotten her this far, but after being reminded at every turn that she has no power in the world of spirits and demons in which she's found herself, she has come to accept that she has no other recourse save to ask for help. Real help — not favors from lowly spirits in the bathhouse, not trickery and cleverness that only keep her out of danger for a few minutes more. If she doesn't put aside her pride, she doubts she'll ever see her grandmother again.

Eli reaches out her hand, but at the last moment pulls her fingers back from the door knocker hovering at her head level. Its mouth twists into a petulant pout, and it "hmphs" at her. 

"I was looking forward to that," it says, small brass mouth curling as it speaks. It takes all of Eli's long-practiced self control to keep from flinching further than she already has. "Well, go ahead. Come in." 

The doors swing open without a touch, their weight alone stirring the still air of the room beyond. Eli steps through them, eying the door knocker one last time when she can swear she feels its eyes following her. It isn't the strangest thing she's seen since her arrival — spirits winking in and out of existence on a red-lacquered bridge, will-o-the-wisps that hissed and spat at her and frogs that turned into people. Grandmothers that turned into swans. 

It isn't the strangest thing Eli has seen, but something about the door knocker's eyes unsettles her anyway. They're too warm, too human for a construction of iron and brass, never mind whether it was magical. 

"I said come in," the voice says again, this time speaking from deeper within the rooms ahead rather than coming from the knocker. 

"I'm sorry," Eli says, speaking at her ordinary volume even when the voice booms and echoes around her.

It should be intimidating, she knows that. But the warmth from the door knocker's eyes lingers underneath the voice, making her question whether the fearsome bath house owner is truly as terrible as all of her employees gossiped she would be. Eli steps forward, minding the order and allowing her feet to carry her across the plush carpeting running the length of the room. 

"That's better," the voice says, at a more respectable speaking level, when Eli steps through the next doorway and into the office beyond. There's a high-backed chair behind a heavy wooden desk, which spins slowly around as Eli's eyes fall on it. "Let me get a look at you." 

Eli is getting a look around the room, face pointed politely forward even as her eyes slide in appraisal over violet and gold décor, rich with embroidery and dripping with symbols of mysticism, the ceiling etched with what resembles a star chart, in the brief moment when Eli darts a look up at it. But she's bid walk forward, and she leaves off her inspection to instead cross the remaining distance between herself and the witch. 

"Is this better?" she asks, as polite as she's able. 

"Much," the woman — witch — behind the desk says, folding her hands together to tuck underneath her chin as a smile blooms across her face. "You're a pretty girl. Pretty girls like you should have better things to do than work in a bath house, shouldn't they?" 

Eli remembers the cautioning she received from the allies she made already, remembers that as kind and sweet as the witch might seem she should not allow herself to be deterred. She needs this job. The job is the key to everything. 

"I am afraid that isn't the case," she says. "I would very much like to work." 

"Everyone says they'd like this, they'd like that," the witch says, leaning back in her chair and instead letting her folded hands fall into her lap. "Very few people know what they truly want." 

"I think that I do," Eli says. 

She envisions her grandmother dancing in her mind's eye, the way she did in old videos when she was younger and fresher and the stiffness hadn't settled so far into her bones. She remembers the way the swan's neck had arched when it lunged at her, remembers her disbelief (significant, but less great than she feels it should have been, less surprised at seeing the star of Swan Lake take a form she wishes the woman was less suited to) that the surly creature was ever human at all, let alone a relative of hers. 

Eli thinks very much that she knows what she wants, when she can picture her grandmother — poised and human — so clearly in her mind. 

"The work is hard," the witch insists, staring Eli down with those warm eyes.

"I'm a hard worker," Eli says. 

For a long moment, they are both silent, staring into each other's faces. The witch's face is softer than it should be, plump and pretty and with a girlish flush pinking her cheeks. Eli remembers the things the bathhouse workers had whispered, as she sat invisibly among them and took in their gossip. She remembers that this lovely woman, lustrous of hair and smooth of cheek, is rumored to be centuries upon centuries old. 

She feels the weight of the witch Nozomi's gaze on her skin, and warm though it might be, she feels like nothing so much as a slab of meat being sized up for the butchering. 

"I could, perhaps, be persuaded to take on an additional worker," Nozomi says, one finger coming up to tap at her lips. "I always did say I never would turn away a worker asking for a job. But that doesn't mean the position won't come at a cost." 

"I don't mind," Eli says. "I'll pay whatever you ask me." 

"Oh, don't say that," Nozomi warns her. "Never agree to a bargain before you've heard the terms." 

Eli bites her tongue, thinking that she has no other choice — it's bargain or betray her grandmother, and as she's unwilling to do the latter, she absolutely must agree to the former, no matter what Nozomi asks of her. 

Nozomi pulls open one of the drawers behind the desk, and pulls out a tightly-wrapped sheaf of paper, unrolling it on the desk's surface. "Ordinarily I take a worker's name," she says, looking down at the parchment instead of up at Eli. "As part of the contract. Everyone must sign their name, you understand." 

"Of course," Eli says.

Nozomi's gaze snaps up to fix on her. "But I don't think your name is the loveliest thing about you. It is a pretty thing, but you have a much more beautiful face." 

"Th-Thank you," Eli says, stumbling underneath the unexpected compliment. In spite of everything that she's been told about the witch of the bath house, Nozomi's voice remains warm and sweet when she says that Eli is beautiful, and something in Eli's chest seizes and pulls taut. 

"Please, come here," Nozomi says, beckoning Eli toward her with the crook of one finger. "I'll take your payment in exchange for the job now." 

"What do you..." Eli starts to say. 

She's beginning to lean in, as if Nozomi's curling finger is drawing her on a thread. Before she can snap herself out of it, Nozomi's hand darts out, catching her by the cheek and pinching into the flesh so that Eli gasps a soft sound of surprised pain. 

Nozomi leans up to meet her, and presses their mouths together in a kiss. 

It's chaste enough, just the brush of the witch's lips against her own. Her breath is warm against Eli's face when she pulls away after, and Eli has to remind herself not to reach up and touch her mouth. 

"There we are," Nozomi says, glancing down at the contract. Eli's gaze follows hers, skimming down the page to where she can see her own name, writing itself across the bottom line in red ink even as she watches. "The job is yours." 

Before Eli can ask what happened, Nozomi reaches into a different drawer from the one she'd drawn the contract out of, fingers closing around the heavy handle of a brass-backed looking mirror. She pulls it up, turning the silvered surface to face Eli.

"It's like I was saying," Nozomi points out. "Your face is the prettiest thing about you, and I do like pretty things." 

When Eli looks into the mirror, it's as if all her features are gone. The pretty face Nozomi describes isn't there — she looks like nothing more than a milky smear against the mirror, like she's been censored out in a recording for television, or like she's been erased altogether.

"I took it as payment," Nozomi clarifies. "But don't worry, this isn't what everyone else will see. They'll see a plain young spirit, newly come to work at the baths." She laughs for a moment, sweet and high. "Isn't that what you wanted?" 

Eli bites her tongue, because to argue would be dishonest. 

"I asked you for a job," she agrees, "and you have given me one. So — yes, I suppose this is." 

"Then go on," Nozomi says. "Get out of here. The baths won't clean and run themselves." 

Eli stares back at her a long moment more, watching Nozomi's sweet smile as it rests across her face like a mask. She remembers what the spirits said — don't trust the witch, for she is more conniving than you know. Eli touches her cheek as she turns away, and wonders if she'll be able to restore her grandmother's humanity to her, when she badly suspects she's begun to lose it from herself. 

-

-


End file.
